


Broken

by Late_to_the_fandom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Late_to_the_fandom/pseuds/Late_to_the_fandom
Summary: There are a million stars in the inky expanse of the sky, almost mocking him in their brightness as he feels his own spark growing faint with every beat of his heart.New moon, his brain provides. It’s why they seem so brilliant.He blinks, clearing away the tears that make every pinpoint blurry. He can’t, won’t, close his eyes. Not now.He’s not ready yet.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, sterek - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

There are a million stars in the inky expanse of the sky, almost mocking him in their brightness as he feels his own spark growing faint with every beat of his heart.

New moon, his brain provides. It’s why they seem so brilliant. 

He blinks, clearing away the tears that make every pinpoint blurry. He can’t, won’t, close his eyes. Not now.

He’s not ready yet.

~

It’s coming. He knows it’s coming, but he thinks that if he holds on a bit longer……

Every breath is a wet, laboured action, wheezing on the inhales and rattling on the tail of each exhales.

He’s fairly certain that a broken rib has perforated his lung as he coughs, a harsh hacking sound in the silence. His abdomen is surely slowly filing with bodily fluids and the thought should make him panic but he just blinks the flow of tears away.

He can’t close his eyes.

Not yet.

~

He doesn’t now where he is, and he can’t move his head to see if he can recognize the surroundings. The only thing he sees are the ghostly tops of trees on his right.

He’s not afraid. He feels no pain, a sure sign that his spine is broken, but he’s not afraid.

He’s just submerged by waves of deep sadness and the breath he takes is too deep and makes him cough.

~

The tears have been falling for a while now. He just blinks to clear his eyes again.

~

He should be cold, his brain realizes. He’s dressed in a thin t-shirt and boxer shorts, but he feels nothing.

Except deep heartbreak.

~

He has no idea ho much time he has been laying there.

Time is a fickle thing, really.

~

He gets lost in his head, in the memories of his mother, of all that he’ll miss. 

He wishes he could have seen his dad one last time. There is solace in the fact that he knows how much he loves him. He made sure to tell him often.

He’s not afraid but he is so very sad.

~

He realizes that the stars have moved, marking the passage of a few hours.

He finds it weird how unafraid he is.

He should be terrified, he knows, but he feels serene.

~

He blinks the moisture away and coughs. He can feel that his spittle has dried in thin flakes around his mouth by how it pulls at his skin.

~

The stars have moved again.

He feels so tired and he knows it’s a lost battle. He won’t be able to keep his eyes open for much longer.

~

He hears rustling in the underbrush and wonders if the animal foraging beyond the tree line will sniff him and come out to investigate.

He blinks again and he thinks he can hear panting close by. 

As much as he does not want to close his eyes, he also does not want to get eaten alive and he squeezes his eyes shut.

The panting evolves to growling and seems to be getting closer.

~

He feels debris pelting his cheek as the animal skids to a stop near his head, a howl echoing through the darkness. There is a deep groan accompanied by weird snapping sounds then hands are on his face and someone is talking but he can’t hear the words. 

The rushing in his head is too loud as relief surges like a tidal wave and the tears seep from his closed lids.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s been running for what seems like hours, panic making him reckless and he’d been turned around a few times. He fears he’s losing the trail as it seemed to grow faint, so he speeds up, the others yipping around him. 

Despair is clawing at his insides, acid burning in his belly.

He runs and runs and _runs._

~

The sickly-sweet metallic smell of blood hits him like a freight train, making hope bloom fleetingly in his chest as he follows it to the edge of the forest.

The irregular heartbeat has him pushing himself to run _faster_ , clearing the tree line in a few large bounds and almost trampling the body sprawled in the dirt before him.

He veers sharply, spraying dirt on the person before groaning as he shifts in mid-motion.

~

“Stiles!”

He found Stiles.

He kneels along his prone form and touches his face. The angles of his limbs and torso is wrong, so, _so_ _wrong_ and he just knows his body is shattered and can’t be moved. There’s blood seeping from too many lacerations for him to count and a few large gashes along his belly and shoulders.

He howls for the other and feels the tears running down his cheeks.

He talks and talks, trying to assess the damages and Stiles opens his eyes and he whines in relief.

Erica grinds to a halt, shifting before she can kneel and the others all arrive, one after the other.

Scott leans forward and takes Stile’s arm and it’s clear that he wants to cradle his friend’s body, to take him away from this place, but he can’t.

He can’t and Derek goes a little crazy and roars, eyes flashing blood red as he snaps Scott’s arm in half before he can even blink.

He’s still roaring, and Isaac pulls Scott away.

“Don’t touch him!” He lisps around his fangs and Scott bristles and they all try to talk over themselves.

“His spine is severed. We can’t move him. Don’t even fucking TOUCH him!” 


	3. Chapter 3

They found him and he’s relieved he won’t die alone, and he lets himself cry, deep broken sobs between bouts of coughing and whistling breaths.

He wheezes, “You came” as bubbles of blood tinged saliva gather along his lips.

“You came.” His throat hurts, his voice is raspy, and he coughs. The sound is wet, and he wants to close his eyes. 

“Y-ou came…. you- c-came..“, tears fall and his breath is so fucking laborious and he just wants everything to _stop_. “…you came…”

oOo

He leans forward and kisses Stiles forehead then wipes his tears with his thumbs. “ Shh…. Shh….I’m here. I’ll always come for you.”

He’s aware that the others are whining and crying but he doesn’t spare them a thought.

oOo

He swallows thickly, his words slurring but he must tell him.

“I lo-…ve you. I’m…” he’s cut off by a wracking burst of squelchy hacking. “…sorry. Wanted you to know. ‘M sorry… for… dying.”

His next breath is arduous, but he pulls his face in a smile and tries to pour all the love that he has in the look he gives him.

oOo

His wolf his keening as he shakes his head. He cradles Stiles face in his hands and whispers “Nono _nono_. You can’t leave me….. just- _no_!”

He blinks, his vision going red.

“Say it, Stiles. Fucking _SAY IT_!”

oOo

He feels Derek’s hand on his face and stares into his soul.

“D- do it… ’m gonna- … gonna die… either way…” he gurgles the last words but knows Derek needs to hear them.

He closes his eyes, his voice is hoarse as he murmurs, “…love you.”


	4. Chapter 4

He nods. ”Okay. Okay…. don’t- …. just -… don’t leave me. I need you….” 

He takes a deep breath before picking up Stiles’ limp arm. His eyes burn as he lets his fangs drop.

He shudders at what he’s about to do, knows it has never been what Stiles wanted but this is the last option and he’s not ready to let him go.

He opens his half-shifted muzzle and bites down hard enough to break the skin. The silence around him is broken by a concerto of mournful howls.

~

It will be a few hours before they know if it worked.

Scott and Erica left a short while ago to get the Sherriff. No matter the outcome, the man must know where his son is and that he did not die alone, his body discarded in an empty clearing.

He lets himself cry for long minutes against Stiles’ chest. Once he’s gotten it out of his system he shifts and lays along Stiles body to keep him warm.

He stares as the others do the same, wrapping themselves around his prone form, offering the meager support they can. 

They settle in and wait.

oOo

Stiles brain is a flurry of neurologic activity, synapses firing at an unhealthy speed. Unconsciousness drags him deep under, but he is safe in the knowledge that he is not alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Isaac let the Sherriff take his place along Stile’s right side once he had been done with his raging despair. Melissa was there too. She arrived with Erica shortly after, bearing sleeping bags, snacks and a couple of Thermos of coffee. Once she had covered John with a sleeping bag she sat at Stiles’ head and cleaned him with a wet wipe then spent a long while simply running her fingers in his hair. She then bundled herself up and spent even longer carding her hands through Derek’s thick fur.

They waited.

~

Derek laid waiting; his snout pushed against the soft skin behind Stiles ear as he dozed fitfully. John broke down a couple of times and no one blamed him. 

He pretended to be asleep each time. 

~

Dawn came slowly as it was wont to do in the forest. The sky lightened and birds started singing and Stiles was still breathing.

He could still reject the bite, so he did not want to be overly optimistic but the fact that there was no black blood spilling from his body was encouraging.

He kept that thought to himself in the event that he was wrong.

~

He jerks awake, brain slightly fuzzy and it takes a second or two to reorient himself. He stretches slowly, blinks his eyes open and surveys the area.

It is still early morning and the others are all in the same position they were the last time he’d looked around their impromptu camp.

There was a twitching along his belly where it was pressed along Stiles’ left arm and he looks down in surprise before jumping up and yelping.

The Sherriff starts and stares at him, looking away as he shifts to his bi-pedal form.

He takes hold of the hand closest to him and almost cries out when there’s a slight tremor in the fingers.

John has noticed and is shaking Melissa awake, wonder and hope battling for dominance over his features.

He examines Stiles body, trying to determine if this was a fluke or if the bite had taken and his body was slowly repairing itself, but he’s too nervous and keep seeing movement wherever he lays his eyes.

Melissa scrambles out of her sleeping bag and moves on her hands and knees until she reaches Stiles’ feet, pushing Erica out of the way so she can run the nail of her thumb along the sole of his left foot. She watches his reflexes then does the same thing with his other foot. Her face is set in concentration and she’s mumbling medical jargon to herself as she palpates and prods at his body.

She makes her way up to his head and grumbles about not having a flashlight, snorting when the Sherriff slaps his phone in her hand. She checks Stiles pupillary reflexes then listens to his lungs as best she can without her stethoscope. When she straightens there is a soft smile on her lips, and they all release the breath they had been holding.

She nods, tears springing from her eyes as she bites her bottom lip. John pulls her to him, and they embrace in relief.

He’s aware of the others laughing and crying and hugging it out but he’s numb.

He shifts reflexively and trots towards the tree line. By the time he reaches the first trunks he’s sprinting, his wolf snarling in his head.

~

He trudges back in late afternoon. He’s panting and ashamed and he slinks closer to Stiles’ body with his head hanging low. John looks at him and he’s relieved to see understanding in the man’s blue eyes as he wraps an arm around his body and buries his face in the fur behind his ears. It last only minutes but it’s enough. 

He lays down and moves until he can push his snout in Stiles’ neck. The scents are slightly different, the odor of blood less pronounced and it confirms that the bite took. 

He settles is for another long wait as Stiles’ body slowly heals.

~

He dozes but does not sleep as the stars move in a wide arc across the dark expanse of the night sky.

He needs to loosen the kinks in his body and just as he’s about to stand, fingers twitch against his back. He whines lowly and the Sherriff glances his way as he flips to paw at the ground where Stiles hand is intermittently moving. 

They both stare at the appendage for a handful of minutes to reassure themselves that it is indeed movement and not just a spasm.

They sigh in relief as it becomes clear that he is indeed moving but they know he is far from being out of the woods. 

~

They decide to move Stiles out of the forest the very next day. He has improved enough that Melissa is confident he can be transported home and will not sustain irreparable injuries to his spine. 

They wake at the crack of dawn and pack up their camp. Derek is human again so he can carry him, and they make the trek back to where John and Melissa’s cars are parked.

It’s close to six when they make it to the Stilinski household. Melissa sends everyone home, promising that they will all be kept in the loop, before checking Stiles one last time then taking her leave.

John suggests they clean Stiles up and he leads Derek to the bathroom where they draw a bath and start scrubbing the blood and dirt from Stiles’ skin. They drain the water when it turns murky brown, but they manage to get him cleaned, redressed and in bed within the hour. 

John insists they get a bite to eat and they trudge down to the kitchen where he makes a batch of grilled cheese sandwiches which they eat in silence. Derek fidgets the whole time and John tells him to take a shower before he crashes at the table. He makes it quick, leaving hot water for the Sherriff, then goes back to Stiles’ room where he rummages in his drawers for something to wear. 

He takes a moment to examine Stiles’ minute differences, noting the changing muscle definition in his arms and legs, the way his injuries are slowly disappearing, leaving unblemished skin beneath.

He’s suddenly drained, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins the last couple of days just evaporating. He shuffles leadenly towards the bed and slips under the sheets and blankets, mindful of jostling Stiles healing body. He burrows in the mattress, face against Stiles shoulder and promptly passes out.

~

John watches fondly as Derek hastens out of the kitchen. He hears the shower turn on as he placed their dirty dishes in the sink and he takes a moment to stare out the window, lost in thoughts. He’s rattled and knows things have just taken a direction he’s completely unprepared to deal with.

His baby boy is now a werewolf and, if he’s not mistaken, about to be mated with the local alpha. He roughs a hand along his face, the three-day beard scratchy against his palm. The shower shuts off, and he slowly makes his way up to his room. He hears Derek’s steps in the hallway, then drawers being opened and closed in Stiles’ room.

He smiles softly. At least his son is in good hands. 

He makes his way to the bathroom for a quick wash. He hesitates in the doorway once he’s done but the need to know his son is okay wins and he trudges to Stiles’ where he finds Derek sleeping with his face smushed into his son’s bony shoulder. He rounds the bed, happy that they had purchased a queen a few years back and eases his old body on Stiles’ other side, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles wakes up in increments, awareness trickling in slowly.

~

He tries to move his legs, but they seem to be pinned by a heavy weight.

~

His limbs spasm and he wiggles to get more comfortable. There is a band across his belly that restrains him.

~

He turns on his side, a soft smile on his face as the scent of forest/lemons/leather fills his nose.

~

He’s hot.

He tries to kick his legs to untangle himself from the sheets, but he seems to be caught in a blanket burrito.

He grumbles, twisting to get free but freezes when his dad’s voice grouses, “Stop. Moving.”, behind him.

His eyes pop open and he’s met with a hairy chest, and his mouth hangs open when he eventually stares at Derek’s sleepy gaze. He tries to scramble backwards but his dad’s there and all he manages to do is hit them both with his flailing limbs before John ends up sprawled on the hardwood floor.

He sits up and everything comes crashing in simultaneously. The sounds, the smells, the colours.

It’s all too much and not enough and he clasps his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught. There’s a high, whine bouncing around his head and it takes a few seconds for him to understand it’s coming from his own chest.


	7. Chapter 7

He has been waiting an hour for Stiles to finally surface and when he does it does not go as anticipated.

Stiles sits keening in the middle of the bed. He’s wrapped in his blankets and has his hands over his ears, and he should have wolfed out, like just every other bitten wolf does, but he has not.

He should have expected this, really. It is Stiles after all, and he _never_ does as expected. 

The Sherriff’s head pops up from the edge of the mattress and they share a knowing look. Apparently, John is not surprised either.

Stiles is still making weird sounds, so he grasps the back of his neck and pulls until his face is in the crook of his neck. There are a few seconds where he fights it but the instant he takes in a deep breath he stills and presses closer, a content rumble replacing the whining. He runs his large hands along the planes of Stiles’ back and the new wolf relaxes against his chest.

John sits back on the bed and talks softly. “Hey kiddo. You okay?”

Stiles nods in his embrace.

“Good. That’s…. good.“ Something in the tone of his voice makes Stiles’ head come up from where he was hiding. He groans, flings himself in the Sherriff’s arms and starts crying. John almost topples over again but manages to stay on the bed and they are hugging in that desperate way people who almost lost each other do. 

He watches as father and son cling to each other. He’s thinking about stepping out and giving them privacy, but John grabs his arm and he’s suddenly caught in a Stilinski hug. He presses his nose to the skin behind Stiles ear and his wolf settles with a happy rumble. 

Stiles now smells like _pack_.

Stiles now smells like _mate_.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything is just too goddamn loud and he’s having a meltdown. 

Derek grabs him and his body suddenly goes lax. His face is pressed to Derek’s skin and, _oh._

He smells so good and things click in his brain, all the pieces fall into place and its so fucking _overwhelming_.

He breathes deeply while Derek shushes him and he’s aware of _everything._

~

It all comes crashing down the moment his dad asks if he’s okay.

He sounds wrecked and he suddenly realizes that he had been so close to dying alone in that field. Once the dam breaks open, he’s overcome with guilt and he cries and cries and _cries._

He starts shaking and he feels like he’s eight years old again and he wants his daddy.

He’s so emotionally drained that he falls back asleep against his father’s solid frame as Derek gently rubs circles on his back. 

~

The second time he wakes it’s to the smell of greasy, fried food. His stomach grumbles loudly and he can hear Derek laugh in the kitchen.

It’s all kinds of scary and awesome and his heart gallops in his chest. He takes a few deep, grounding breathes and almost gags at the smells wafting from the hamper. He grins like an idiot and makes a mental note take care of the laundry later as he gets up and stretches before making his way to where he knows there’s food waiting.

Derek is nothing if not predictable and he always makes sure his new wolves have plenty to eat so he’s not surprised to find a mountain of curly fries, fresh out of the deep fryer, sitting in the middle of the table. He can hear his dad in the back yard, then the man comes in bearing a plate of steaks the size of Texas and his fangs itch in his gums at the odor of grilled meat.

He makes a beeline for his alpha, wrapping his arms around his waist as he rubs his face along his scruff. Derek rumbles contentedly, hugging him tightly.

His dad clears his throat from where he’s seated, and they separate with a start. He smiles when he spots the red high on Derek’s cheeks and he bumps his should while he grabs a can of coke and the bottle of ketchup from the refrigerator before sitting in his usual chair. 

Derek brings a dish of vegetable from where it was cooling on the oven before joining them at the table and they eat in companionable silence for the thirteen minutes it takes for him to get antsy.

He manages to shovel about half of the food on his plate in his mouth before his inner fidgety self starts shaking his leg. Derek must figure it out too since he keeps giving him weird looks, as though he’s expecting him to jump out of his skin, which he totally is, to be honest.

He swallows the bite that’s in his mouth, lays his utensils down in his plate before pushing it away. He stares at it, formulating what he wants to say before he sighs and just starts talking.

“I’m sorry I almost died. I’m sorry I scared you.” His dad looks pained and it hurts to know it’s because of him. “I was watching tv and I heard weird noises and I went in the back yard thinking it was racoons or something.” He laughs drily at the memory. “It wasn’t racoons, let me tell you.”

He stands, unable to sit still any longer, and starts pacing. ”I don’t know what it was. There is nothing like it in the bestiary.” He rubs along his chest with his fist, trying to release some of the latent panic. “It looked like a weird, giant, cross between a hyena and a moth. It was fuzzy and the stench…” He shudders at the memory. “It smelled like decay, like rancid meat and old rotten, wet wood.”

He does a few more back and forth before Derek gets up and envelops him in a hug. He’s trembling against the alpha’s chest, whining when the man grabs the back of his neck and squeezes lightly, settling his wolf so he’s able to continue his retelling of events. “I could hear sucking noises near the shed so I approached slowly, thinking I could scare whatever it was away. I couldn’t see much as the thing was in the dark spot where the porch light doesn’t reach.” He looks over at his dad and the man is staring back, both hands cupped around his coffee mug, as he nods for him to go on.

He lets go of Derek and they both sit back down, and he takes a few sips of his coffee. “I’m not stupid, I didn’t go barrelling in the dark, I stayed far enough away so that I could see but not be within striking distance. I did not account for the fact that that thing was over seven feet tall and had fucking wings.” He rubs a hand over his face and up in his hair, scrubbing at the memory of something unpleasant on his skin. 

“It drew up on it’s hind legs then leapt onto the roof of the shed and stared at me. I started backing up towards the house and it emitted an eerie hissing bark-like sound. I walked faster, putting as much distance between us but it launched itself upwards. I could see it silhouetted against the sky as he hovered, then a god awful shrill sounded and he plunged towards me.” His dad clasped a hand over his shoulder and scooted his chair closer. 

“It attacked me, biting at my arms with sharp teeth and I thought I’d be able to fend it off. I yelled at it which, in retrospect was a bad idea, and it shrieked before grabbing me with its talons and just swung up. I managed to wiggle enough that it dropped me from about ten feet high. I slammed on the grass and tried to crawl away, but it dove after me, plunged its claws in my flesh and hoisted me up again. I must have blacked out because I came to somewhere over the forest and I jerked in panic, making it squawk in displeasure and it dropped me again.”

He leans against his dad and whispers “I yelled and yelled, knowing I would surely die upon hitting the ground but it plucked me from the air, and I thought I would be okay but it decided to play with me instead, letting me go and picking me up from where ever I landed a few times, until the pain was unbearable and I was unable to utter another sound.”

He closes his eyes and swallows the lump that is lodged in his throat. “It landed near my head, poked and sniffed at me then left. I guess it prefers its toys alive.” Derek’s face is pinched, and he knows that his dad’s must mirror the same emotions. The silence is slowly becoming oppressive then Derek throws the box of tissues in front of him and his dad pulls one out before blowing his nose, breaking the tension.

“You are grounded and under house arrest until you’re thirty.” His dad’s voice is a bit gruff, but it pulls out a wet laugh out of him as he nods. “Yeah, figured as much.”

His dad goes on, waving a hand between him and Derek. “And you need to explain how the hell this happened without me noticing!”

He snorts. "You're the Sherriff, dad. I learned early how to be sneaky" 

That earns him a slap upside the head and he's okay with it


End file.
